


Cry Out, Toss Aside

by BarbarianLibrarian



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Gangsters, Gen, Light Angst, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarbarianLibrarian/pseuds/BarbarianLibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>13 year old Mako and Shady Shin connect over feeling cast aside by 'normal' citizens and their Triad peers in Republic City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry Out, Toss Aside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettymanly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymanly/gifts).



> Crossposted [here](http://a-necessary-fiction.tumblr.com/post/48998554937/fic-cry-out-toss-aside).  
> Heavily inspired by a Tiger JK song shared with me that lead up to this idea getting fleshed out:  
> “Scream that you hate me  
> Cry out that you hate me  
> Toss my feelings aside  
> I like it more than this indifferent world”  
> -[ 편의점 Convenience Store (feat. Gemini) by Drunken Tiger](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sxrPsEXXiLU)  
> * _Diu nei lou mou_ \- Cantonese; "fuck your old mother". Generally considered a grossly offensive insult.

The rock quarry near the Dragon Flats is Triple Threat owned. Most of the 49ers work their way up from here through hard toil, learning the crew pecking order, and getting bossed around by their elders for little immediate reward. Makes for a good drinking spot once the last shift card gets punched.

Mako remains huddled on the floor of Shin’s customized moped, knees mottled by dark and ugly bruises drawn tight against his chest. His chin is tucked close against the knobby join of far too prominent collarbones, milk-pale skin speckled with fresh scabs, drying streaks of blood, and detritus from where he’d tumbled across the pavement like a stone skipping over water. The soles of the kid’s feet are almost black and from the angle Shin’s sitting at, he can barely tell Mako’s even there; hidden behind the cream and turquoise shields hugging  _MeiMei_ ’s front fender. No oil stains clinging to the back of his wrinkled canvas pants, frayed hems sagging around bony ankles like the gaping mouths of dead carp. He must have walked the entire distance before sulking at the foot of Shin’s battered door.

Beneath them, lustrous and unusual smoke-colored druse sparkle in the pallid glow of a gibbous moon. Air pollution ruins what might have been a quiet, ethereal moment- the sight of the celestial body now reminiscent of a heavy, sagging midsection belonging to one of the stooped, stiff-jointed longshoremen Shin shares the upper floors of his apartment complex with.

He clinks the side of his nearly full wine bottle against a pile of ‘dead soldiers’ rougher than normal, unable to ignore the soft sounds behind him. Clogged nostrils sucking back thick strands of mucus sliming up the brat’s apple-cheeked, dirty little face-

“Tsch. Balls haven’t even dropped yet and you’re acting all tough guy? You can still be damn manly and cry,” Shin remarks pointedly. He dips his head back with a snap and glugs down another mouthful of  _bak jau_. “Though, I appreciate you  _not_  dripping all over my ride.”

The joints of the kickstands begin to squeak and Shin regrets having been too lazy and heat-addled to properly oil them earlier that week. With a thready growl, he finally stumbles to his sandaled feet and kicks up a small cloud of quartz dust.

“Fer crying out loud, quit with the waterworks already. The next time some guy thinks he’s hard-boiled for wailing on a street kid, you take in a lungful and make a racket. Tell him elephant rats’ll be wearing his foreskin as a hat, make with the flash. I seen you practicing with that balisong.”

He jabs a bare toe against the notches of Mako’s ribcage a few times, ‘sauce’ fragrance wine sloshing against the gold and jade bangles decorating his left wrist. A knife’s edge of a smile parts Shin’s lips, the lower split down the middle by a thin crack separating dry flakes of skin. The quick slap against the top of his foot is enough to sting a little and he barks out a dry laugh.

“See, that’s the spirit, kid. Don’t blubber and mope around, get riled. You got a mouth like a sailor, now all of a sudden you’re clamming up and doe-eyed? I’m  _shakin_ ’,” he taunts, dancing back a few steps like a boxer. Mako’s decidedly less prone to sniffling, giving him that beady and focused look from beneath matted chunks of his dark bangs.

Shin leads them a few steps from the edge of the sheer cliffs overlooking the bulk of the quarry’s expanse and points to the inky swath of night sky and dim, pinprick stars. “Stare at that fat, saggy tit of an excuse for a moon and just belt something out, yeah? Make Yue’s short hairs  _really_  curl, this time-”

“ _Diu nei lou mou!_ ” Mako squalls, all four and some change of his skinny frame trembling with anger. He looks more alive now, flushed in the face and bright eyed.

Shin is actually shocked into silence he’d picked  _that_  particular offense up, but Mako’s still around thirteen years and hearing his kittenish rage echo against jagged hunks of rockface is nothing short of hilarious.

“Strong start, I’ll admit, so don’t back out now,” he smarms, now fully amused. As expected, his grumpy shadow can’t back down in the face of a challenge.

“Go get an enema from La’s great, watery dick!” Mako continues, somewhat less confident than before, but feigning the same strength of spirit.

“Ok, now you’re just stealing my lines, so let me show you how it’s done-  **Shove that head up Agni’s volcanic, fiery rectum!** ” Shin jeers manically, making a rude gesture with his free arm.

“Don’t talk down at me like I don’t exist!”

“That’s right, don’t act like you can’t hear me when I’m talking!”

“You can’t _IGNORE ME_ -”

“Or treat me like SHIT, I’m not _WORTHLESS_ -” Shin suddenly bellows. The wine bottle shatters against raw stone, spraying shards of glass and acerbic smelling liquid into the emptiness of the gaping maw beyond. He roughly shoves his fingers through his longer strands of hair, dislodging the pins keeping it held back against his scalp, until his sudden pacing stops mere inches from the edge. He screams into the abyss until his throat’s raw and burning, the veins of his neck standing out from beneath tanned skin. Mako’s lighter- but nonetheless loud- cry joins his own until their lungs are spent and their clothes are slightly damp from the humidity in the air.

He doesn’t notice the tremor in each limb until spindly fingers silently lace between his own. Shin pants out a few breaths, glancing down at those searching eyes staring, with unblinking frankness, back into his own. A long, gangly arm snakes around Mako’s chin as Shin laughs, a bit hollowly, lifting the kid and jamming his squished face right into a sweaty armpit.

“Lesson over. I’m beat and starvin’ half to death,” he chuckles, still dragging a now vocally fussy Mako back to the scooter. He had enough yuans to spare to make sure the kid ate a decent meal before work.


End file.
